


A Better Person

by Cantique



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hancock and female sole survivor stuff. Oneshots. Not sure where it'll go but you know. Heads up: descriptions of drug use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hancock liked nights at the Red Rocket. It was a rare stop for them, of course, with Sanctuary so close by, but he supposed it made it all the more special. Sanctuary was thriving, which was good for her, what, with her efforts and all, but it was also loud. Now that the trade routes were firmly established, there was always someone's Brahmin snorting and huffing nearby, or someone making sure that _everyone_ knew they'd knocked back a few too many bottles of moonshine. Not that Hancock minded that, of course. Noise in a place like that was a good thing, it meant life.

But there was something special about the quiet that settled over the Red Rocket, something to be savoured. Probably had something to do with it being Mac's private refuge from her own people. Usually, if they stopped by the Red Rocket, it was so she could do chems away from prying eyes. She was hardly a heavy user, but Preston was a little judgy about it. Hancock didn't blame her for feeling that way, honestly. The guy put her on a pedestal.

But tonight was different. Usually at Red Rocket she'd settle down, dose up on whatever it was that she felt like that night and take a break. Instead, she'd been at her work bench for _hours_ now, doing something to a shotgun she'd found – he wasn't exactly sure what, or why. The whole day had been off, really. They were meant to head out to the C.I.T ruins but she'd received a distress call from one of the settlements near Sanctuary. Once that had been taken care of, Hancock had assumed they'd crash at Sanctuary for the night, but she'd walked straight past it. “Red Rocket tonight,” she'd explained, “need some quiet time.” For her to head to Red Rocket without so much as checking in on Preston? It was... off.

Hancock tilted his head, glancing back at her from the seat they'd set up by the roller door of the garage. “What're you making, anyway?” He asked. There was nothing but the sound of her grinding at something. “Mac?”

“It's a uh... just...” her voice quivered, startling him, “shortening the barrel...” she took a deep breath, and it was then he realised she was breathing louder than the filing noise. Hancock fully turned in the seat, taking in the full few. Although her back was to him, the way her shoulders were shaking was obvious, her breathing so deep that nearly her whole body moved with it. She dropped the file in her hand, pausing in a way that even fooled him into thinking she was calming down. Suddenly, though, she grabbed at a nearby wrench, giving an exacerbated cry before throwing it at the wall with as much force as she could, the sound of metal hitting concrete stinging his ears a bit.

Hancock immediately stood up, making his way towards her with urgency, yet still practising a high degree of caution. He'd seen what Mac was capable of and if she was about to go off the deep end, he wasn't going to think twice about legging it. He'd seen it happen a few times before, usually to drifters on the low dip of a chem spree. Even some of the toughest cookies snapped eventually, the Commonwealth had a way or doing that to people. She was leaning on the bench now, her arms straight and her palms flat against the surface, her head downwards. “You alright?” He asked.

Mac sniffed and quickly lifted her arm to her face, swiftly wiping her sleeve against her eyes before returning it to it's prior position. “Y-yeah,” she whispered, her voice cracking, “I'll be fine.” She gave another sniff before letting out a silent, nervous laugh. “Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?” Hancock scoffed, smiling gently. “Come on, sit. You file any more of that shotgun and it'll be a magnum.” He brought his hand to rest on her shoulder, ever so gently guiding her to turn and walk with him inside. “I'm no Dr,” he began, leading her to the back office she'd refurnished into a bedroom, “but I'm gonna prescribe you some Med X to take the edge off. Come on.” He gestured to her to take a seat on the couch that they'd dragged all the way from Sanctuary one day. She'd spent three solid days refurbishing it and it still looked like someone had tossed a bunch of old shirts together over a frame and called it a day – but damned if it wasn't as comfortable as it was before the war.

Wiping her eyes, she caught her breath as he sat beside her, rolling up the sleeve on her free arm. “I'm sorry,” she repeated as he took some discarded cord from his pocket, tying it around her arm as a tourniquet, “I'll be okay in a few minutes, this is stupid.”

Hancock flicked at the inside of her arm as he spoke, trying to find a vein. “No,” he assured her, “it's not stupid. You've had a shit run... ah!” he laughed. “There's a good one. So easy to find veins on you, 'smooth skin,'” he teased as he reached into his coat, removing an already-filled needle. He was always prepared – he knew she liked that about him. He removed the cap from the tip before taking her arm again, gently pressing the tip into the vein until he knew it was deep enough to get the Med X into her bloodstream. “There we go,” he cooed, slowly injecting it into her arm, “this'll mellow you out a little, slow that brain down.” She didn't flinch once throughout the entire procedure, even though she wasn't in control. Mac trusted Hancock implicitly – something that had alarmed him at first although he eventually trusted her the same.

She gave a long exhale as he untied the tourniquet, closing her eyes and visibly willing herself to calm down. Not that it would matter. The Med X was in her bloodstream now, she was probably already feeling it. “Thanks,” she sighed, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “I've got a lot on my mind right now. I needed that.”

“Well,” he replied, putting the needle aside on the dresser, “I'm not gonna push, but if you wanna get it off your chest, I got time.” He paused. “I mean, I'm not gonna lie – never seen you cry before.”

She rolled her head side to side, taking in the warm blanket feeling of the Med X as she thought. “...I miss Shaun,” she finally admitted after a moment, taking Hancock by surprise a little. It was obvious, of course. He'd expected her to miss him, after all, it was her kid. But Mac rarely talked about him, never in detail, only when needed. Maybe she'd been holding it all in. “Before this happened I'd never been away from him. And now...” she paused, squeezing her eyes shut. “It's been ten years. I've missed _ten years._ I mean, does he even know I existed?”

Hancock studied her expression. Although her eyes were glazing over from the Med X, there was still something there. Something strong and sharp that hurt a lot. How long had she been sitting on this? “Does it matter?” he asked. “You'll find him soon. If he doesn't know already, he'll know soon enough.” He gave a laugh as he popped some Mentats from the packet and into his hand. “Kid's lucky, you know. 'Lotta people would have given up.”

“Yeah, well, 'lotta people didn't wait in a stasis for 200 years just to lose what's left of their family.” She paused, a drowsy smile on her face. “You're kind of like family,” she remarked, her head lolling to the side. “You know that saying? About the family you get to choose? Yeah.”

“And you picked me, huh?” he mused before popping the Mentats into his mouth, tilting his head back and swallowing them down dry.

“I dunno,” she stopped herself, giving a yawn, stretching her arms as she relaxed even further into the couch. “Who picked who?” she asked. “You were the one who did the thing... you know, with the... with the insurance guy?”

Hancock chuckled as he remembered back. He barely did anything, really. The way Mac had carried herself when refusing to pay up, he probably hadn't needed to say a word. But he'd wanted to show off. New faces were rare in Goodneighbour, prettier ones even rarer. Didn't matter who he was now – some things about him would never change. “If I'd known it was gonna impress you so much, I would have made a bigger show out of it.”

“You stabbed a guy for me before you even knew my name,” she laughed as she shifted her side to the back of the couch so she could lean into it and face him, her legs tucked up underneath her, “I was plenty impressed.” She smiled and scratched at her nose, a sign she was well and properly high now. “Thanks for listening to me about Shaun. I think about him every day and I... guess it just finally boiled over.”

“No problem,” Hancock dismissed, shaking his head. “Friends don't just stab people for each other, you know. We talk, too.” He paused. She was slowly blinking, meaning she was going to drift off any minute now. “And anyway, it's your son you're talking about. I'm just impressed you're not dosed up to your eyeballs in a ditch somewhere. You've held it together and didn't run away.”

Within the next few minutes, Mac was asleep on the couch, even though her bed was no more than a few steps away. He spent a lot of time guarding her while she slept. He'd had plenty of time to learn how to keep awake for days at a time using Mentats, and she gave him a lot to think about. She wasn't the first non-ghoul woman to return his flirtatious banter since he'd donned the hat, but she was the first to make him think about who he was, about how he could be a better person. Mac had her whole life taken from her. She'd seen everyone else die when the bombs went off, then her husband, and then someone stole her own kid from under her. She'd woken up in this brand new world that must have been a nightmare for her. If anyone had a right to be an asshole, it was Mac.

But she wasn't. Mac had more problems going on than most people, but she'd never skip out on helping people get by. He'd always wondered how long she'd been like that. Had it taken her time to sort herself out to help others, or had she just hit the ground running once she was on the surface? Mac never ran away, that was for sure, even though she had every right to.

Hancock rolled his neck from side to side as the Mentats began to kick in and rose from the couch. As comfortable as she probably was on the couch, he wasn't going to leave her there. She needed a good night's sleep or she was going to wake up even worse. “Come on,” he sighed, bending down and putting her arm over his shoulder before lifting her from the couch. “You spent a whole day collecting junk to make this bed, I'm not letting you waste it.”

Even though she'd only drifted off for a short time, the Med X was doing it's work and Mac was only really half awake as she gave a groggy groan. Hancock slowly moved her over to the bed, before gently setting her down onto the mattress. “There we go,” he assured her, watching as she bent her legs beneath her and shifted until she was comfortable. He reached down to the bottom of the bed, grabbing at the blanket she'd scrounged up from somewhere and pulling it over her. Would he do this for anyone else? No way. But Mac would do the same for him.

“Hancock?” She asked suddenly, her voice quiet, her lids heavy as she gazed at him. “Friends?”

He gave a nod. “Yeah, friends.”

“And that's all?”

He locked up for a second, although he did his best to not give himself away. Was she being serious? Was there any way to be sure? He had, after all, just loaded her up with Med X, and people who were buzzed to their eyeballs weren't exactly the masters of joke delivery. It could have been his in, though, if he wanted to play that way. She could have been joking to make it less awkward for her if he rejected her. As if he would. There was no way he would knock her back. He'd accidentally caught glimpses of her changing out of her armour before, he knew what was waiting for him and he caught himself thinking about it _all the time._ If she wanted him...

In the dim light of the wall lamp something shiny caught his eye. Her wedding ring. She still wore it.

He couldn't. She was more than that to him, and he knew it, because all he could think about was giving her one less thing to worry about. God only knows how she was feeling about losing her husband, let alone how ready to move on she was. He was no therapist, but that wasn't exactly a choice to be made during a Med X binge. Deep down he knew that it was about more than getting her into bed. He made her want to be a better person, and this would be the first step to proving it to himself that he was. Maybe one day, but not right now.

“I'll tell you once you've rested,” he finally resolved, a soft and promising smile on his face. That would give him enough time to come up with a non-direct, vague answer, and that was if she even remembered it. She was half asleep, really. “Rest up. I'll wait on guard.”

Mac didn't even respond, but instead drifted off from her lulled smile into a deep sleep, which was probably going to be the best she'd had in ages if he were to be honest. Hancock sat back on the couch, reaching for a pack of cigarettes and trying to push the 'what if' questions from his mind. His day would come, and he was happy to wait for it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. I'm pretty baked right now to be honest, sorry about the length.

"Seems like I'm spending more and more time patching you up..." Hancock chuckled to himself as he dabbed at Mac's skin with the wet cloth, the both of them sitting on the edge of her bed. "Although, gotta say, this is one of your more interesting predicaments." 

Mac let out a deep hiss as the cloth moved over her shoulder. "I'm telling you, you're making a fuss," she insisted. "It'll be fine." 

"You're joking right?" He laughed. "You aren't even doing a good job  _pretending_ this doesn't hurt." 

"It's just sunburn." She spoke so bluntly that it took all Hancock had in him to not burst into laughter. Honestly, he felt like he'd been holding his laughter in ever since she'd emerged from her room, red as the Red Rocket sign outside. "It'll fix itself."

He dipped the the cloth into the bucket of water before returning it to her back. "You don't look after yourself and you're gonna end up with my brand of rugged good looks." He followed up with a click of his tongue. "Smooth-skins," he mocked. "How did you even get this burned? Not like you're traversing the Commonwealth in a dress."

She visibly shivered as a drop of water escaped the cloth, running down her back and quickly evaporating from the heat the sunburn was emitting. "Yesterday when you were sleeping off all that jet," she began as he worked his way over the tops of her arms, "I decided to fix that generator. And it was so hot yesterday, and you were asleep and no one else was around. So I rolled down the top of the Vault-suit and worked in my bra." 

Hancock sharply inhaled. He wasn't sure exactly what to think about right now. He  _should_ have been thinking about how dangerous being outside without armor is, especially with so many Raiders about, and all the radiation that came from that water source before it was put through the purifier. Instead, Hancock suddenly found himself struggling to think about anything but the fact that she was basically topless right now, spare for the bra that she was holding to her chest. He cleared his throat when he realized he was staring and not doing a lot of dabbing. "This is what happens when I'm not around to supervise you."

"In my defense," she began, raising her hand up, "I have been underground and in the dark for 200 years."

"All the more reason to be more careful," he exhaled, moving the cloth back down her back. "Sun probably wasn't this bad 200 years ago, either." His thumb accidentally brushed against her skin, and he instinctively pulled his hand away. "Holy shit!" He exclaimed. "It's Ghoul-levels of hot, Mac. You _idiot._ " 

She turned, raising her eyebrow at him. "What do you mean? Ghoul-levels?" 

"What?" He asked, that sly smile spreading over his face, his trademark. "You never touched a Ghoul before?" Where he expected an excuse, Mac just stared blankly. Oh, right. Of course she hadn't. "Well, okay, it isn't  _this_ hot. But it's warm."

"Really?" She asked. "From the radiation? Does it hurt?"

Hancock shook his head. "Nah, it's something to do with how our skin regenerates all the time or something. I kinda zoned out when the doctor told me I was a ghoul forever. And it doesn't hurt. The flaking is a pain in the ass, but--"

"Can I?" 

Hancock paused, she'd shifted in a way that she was facing him now, one arm holding the front of her bra to her chest, the other hovering over his forearm. "Sure," was the only way he could think to respond, taken aback by how... comfortable she was. They were close, sure, and he'd seen parts of her before -- someone had to hit her with Stimpacks, after all, but this was different. He dropped the cloth in the bucket before rolling up his sleeve, offering his arm to her. If anyone else had even dared to ask this of him, there probably wouldn't be much of them left standing. But he'd spent the last twenty minutes cooling her back down, after all, and he'd be lying to himself if he hadn't been enjoying it. 

Mac carefully placed her fingertips on the exposed arm, her curiosity well overtaking any hesitancy she may have been feeling. She'd expected it to feel like leather, but there was something different about it, softer. Maybe it was because she knew that it was still human skin, in a way. She lightly ran her fingers over the surface, her sheer curiosity turning into awe. "This is amazing," she whispered. "In my time... we wouldn't have thought this possible." She glanced upward to him, smiling, but her smile soon disappeared when she realized he was already staring at her. "Sorry, I um. That was rude."

"Nah," he dismissed after a moment. "I know what you meant. Gotta be fuckin' tough to survive this many rads." He shot her a wink, expecting her to withdraw her hand. But she didn't. She lingered for a bit, the two of them in complete silence. "You feeling better?" He finally asked, his voice low.

"You um. Never answered my question," she said, looking down. "Last time we were here, when you gave me that Med-X. ...Are we really just friends?"

Hancock shifted where he sat. "Are we?" he asked her. 

"I'm asking _you_."

He let out an exhale as he thought carefully. "Didn't think that you'd think of me that way," he finally replied. "Although, I can't really blame you, with my charisma and all." 

Mac laughed, shaking her head, a little exacerbated. "But what about you? How do you feel? And be honest because..." she paused pursing her lips for a moment, "I'd really like to hear the truth from someone for once."

She really did need the truth, but in the end, Hancock decided that she deserved it, too. "Have I not made it obvious?" He asked, cracking a grin. "Does the phrase 'impure thoughts' mean nothing to you?" Mac gave a laugh at he continued. "If I can finally get all of this off my chest now, I want you to know that you make me feel like... I can be a better person, you know? You do so much good for people, even when you don't have to or they're kinda rude to you." Hancock paused. "You've also got a  _great_ ass."

Mac paused, a small smile eventually blooming at the corners of her mouth. She leaned in without another word, slowly bringing her lips to the remainder of his. It was a single kiss, but long and lingering, her forehead leaning against his when she finally pulled away. 

"You sure you wanna wake up to this ugly mug every day?" He asked her, a laugh in his voice. 

"Yeah," she whispered, dropping the arm that had been holding the cups of the bra to her chest, the bra coming down with it. "I've been sure for a while."

Hancock was not a man to hesitate in these matters. He never had been, and that was one thing about him that was never going to change. As soon as he was sure, he grabbed her by the waist, eliciting a gasp from her before he pushed her back onto the bed, which was a great idea until he realized she was swearing, not laughing. Hancock sat up and stumbled for bucket of water and the cloth, and tried to estimate how long sunburn took to fade.


End file.
